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“You mean Amber?” Then he tapped his forehead, realizing he’d screwed up. “I mean, Ashley. She’s not here, told me to go on my own.”
He shook his head. “And it doesn’t matter. We’re nothing serious. I’m here because I want to see you, Shania.”
It was exactly what I didn’t want to hear.
“I’ve been hearing so much about you. How you’ve been really kicking some serious butt in the massage therapy game, how you’re looking to open up your own spot…”
How did he know?
Right at that moment a chiming laugh sounded from across the restaurant floor. My eyes shot in its direction, though I knew right away who it was—Katy. OK, I love the girl to death, but she had a tendency to get a little…chatty when she’d had one too many. And I could tell by that laugh she most certainly had tonight. If James had been pressing her like I was then assuming he had, that would without a doubt explain how he’d come across that particular piece of information.
“And I think it’s really, really cool,” he said. “Like, really cool.” He took another sip as I watched him. “And it’s making me realize how much I don’t know about you, what you’ve been up to since UCLA,” he went on. “We were such good friends then, and it sucks to think how much we’ve drifted apart. Always a bummer what that happens, you know?”
“We weren’t really that good of friends,” I said, trying to keep things civil enough that anyone watching the conversation wouldn’t be able to tell how ill at ease I was.
He shrugged, apparently not put out by my comment. “What are you talking about? We ran in the same circles, went to the same parties.” James waved his hand through the air, dismissing my concerns. “Anyway. The point is that I’d love to reconnect. Maybe I could take you out for some coffee.”
Then he cocked his head to the side, as if a much better idea had occurred to him. “Or we could cut the BS, and we could blow off this party, take my helicopter back to San Francisco, and we could be having a very nice, very private dinner, just the two of us?”
“Not really interested in ‘blowing off’ a party for my friends’ wedding.”
“Come on,” he said, moving closer. “It’ll be fun. And I bet a nice break from your low-rent routine here in the city.”
OK, that was enough. I placed my hand on James’s chest, pushing myself back a good few inches until he was well out of my personal bubble.
“You know, James. I do remember you back from UCLA—and what I remember the most was that you never knew how to take a hint.”
“What?” he asked, almost as if shocked that I—or anyone—would talk to him like that.
“I made how I feel about you clear a long time ago. And that hasn’t changed. I guess maybe you think now that you’re a billionaire or whatever, you can show up and throw around your cash and impress whatever girl you want. But for this date or any other you want to ask me on, the answer is ‘no’.”
The warmth in his face—however forced it might’ve been—vanished, replaced with a cold glare. “No one talks to me like that.”
“I just did.”
There was a hard moment of silence as I kept my eyes locked onto his, letting him know in no uncertain terms that, like before, back in college, I wasn’t scared of him in the slightest.
Then, out of the corner of my vision, I watched as the Lover Boys stepped onto the stage, wild applause breaking out as they did.
The big smile reappeared on James’s face, like he was a Mr. Potato Head and someone had snapped it back on.
“Well,” he said. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, you know?” He gestured to the band. “Enjoy the evening. It’s on me.” And with that, he was back in the crowd.
My own smile reappeared as I watched Sean strap on his bass, a big grin breaking out on his handsome features as he met my eyes.
Just like that, with one look from Sean, whatever tension I’d had in me was gone.
There was something about him, something I couldn’t ignore. Something I didn’t want to.
Chapter Eighteen
SEAN
Two days later, Shania was still on my mind. And when I wasn’t thinking about her, I was thinking about how freaking awesomely the show had gone. We’d rocked the place, and like every time the boys and I had gotten together to play the hits, it reminded me of how much fun it was.
Sure, DJing for an audience of thousands in Ibiza had its moments, but there was something about being with the guys, feeling the flow of the music among us, like a conversation among friends that we were happy to share with whoever wanted to listen.
